


Piece of Cake

by Maya_Di_Angelo



Series: #WritingForHobi2021 [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Like, anywho, come on!, happy birthday lil man, has mentions of dance being passion, i cant not write fluff, this is for hobi too, this warm af too, why :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maya_Di_Angelo/pseuds/Maya_Di_Angelo
Summary: “Like cakes. It makes you feel full. I wanna fill everyone with positivity and strength like cake.”“... aaand you ruined it.”
Series: #WritingForHobi2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158527
Kudos: 1





	Piece of Cake

**Author's Note:**

> didn't exactly turn out how i wanted it to but hey im having fun

The planes of consciousness and unconsciousness shifted over one another like a long game of seesaw, clutches of Morpheaus and Theodon pulling him into both realms. His eyelids feel heavy, refusing to blink open and exhaustion lines his bones, weightening him down to his bed like lead. 

A shrill sound reaches through his haze filled mind and tugs at him. He drags his eyes open, the bright red of his alarm clock making him wince. 

_Goddamn clock-  
_   
  
He reaches out to slam it off, or at least he tries to. He fails twice to the lethargy before he finally quiets the annoying device. 

“Fuuuudge,” a groan slips out of his lips and he pushes himself up to sit. His shoulders slump and there’s a pain in the back of his neck. The reflection of himself in the mirror is of a zombie that didn’t eat for several days. Ouch. 

“Should have known this would happen.”

Pity for himself fills him and he knows without even looking at his phone the dozen of messages sent to him by his friends. He’s so screwed for missing school.

Another groan, instead of pity it’s of despair for what would definitely take place. 

The picture frame of his friends’ and his wobbles on the shelf when the front door slams open. 

~

“Hades,” the worried voice of Zhan makes him pause. “Dude, you okay?”

Hadrian smiles, “Yeah, I am. Kinda. Why?”

The disbelieving look Rowan gives him makes it fall from his lips. How do they even catch on? It’s not like he _shows_ the tiredness that makes him want to curl up and doze or the blue of his heart that makes every word that comes out of his mouth a struggle. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Rowan drawls. “Maybe because you look like a total nincompoop who’s in his emo phase?”

“Well isn’t that oddly specific?”

He’s ignored. Rude. Hmph.

“You wanna talk about it or?” Rowan offers and Hadrian rolls his eyes at the faux nonchalance in his voice before sighing. 

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Complicated huh?”

Zhan slings an arm over his shoulder, the teen way too tall for his age and Hadrian immediately melts into him like a block of butter on a pan. He sometimes hates the way the older boy has the power to comfort him even when he doesn’t even know the cause of the issue. Well, it’s not like Hadrian does either. 

“Very.”

“Let’s sit down somewhere,” Rowan suggests leading them towards the far left of the school ground where an old maple tree stood strong. “The others still have an hour or so before their classes finish.” 

“Okay Ro.”

~

“So what you’re saying is,” Zhan takes a deep breath, which is never a good thing for Hadrian. “No one was able to wake up and that’s because you went too hard the night before at the dance break off thingy you street dancers do and your body was literally aching like mad but you were falsely accused for missing classes on purpose and were given an hour long lecture on how your life would be miserable without a textbook job.”

“Pretty much,” Hadrian grins amusement curling the tips of his lips. 

“Parents man,” Rowan sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. 

“Society,” Nico pipes in as he drops down onto the dry grass next to Rowan. 

“Society man,” Rowan sighs. 

“What do you want though?” Zhan directs the question at him and Hadrian flounders, a deer caught in headlights. Zhan repeats again, “What do _you,_ Hadrian Black, want?”

Oh.

“I don’t even know myself,” he says in answer, it’s depressing but well, they wanted the truth. “How would I know what I want?”

“Well you certainly don’t want the textbook job that’s obvious,” snorts Rowan. 

“Do I have a choice though?”

“We all do,” Nico speaks up, he doesn’t look at him and his fingers are tugging at the yellow grass. “It’s just that someone finds a way to crawl through hell for it.”

~

“I want to be something great.”

The scratching of pencil against paper falters and he knows Rowan has that scrutinizing look in his eyes. Hadrian swallows harshly. It’s scary to put himself out there like this and he doesn’t _like_ doing it. He just… 

“Oh?” There’s a disarming intrigue to Rowan’s voice. 

“Yeah,” Hadrian swallows again.

“Great? Not rich?”

“I mean I wouldn’t say no to that but…” He exhales and it sounds so… longing. “I just think that, I want to be the kind of person who reaches success _because_ of what I do and how hard I worked.”

“And what _is_ it that you do?”

Hadrian licks his lips, heart in his throat and looks at Rowan in the eyes.

“Dance.”

~

“What happened?”

Hadrian hears the far away words of one of his friends and the urge to flinch grows strong. 

_I messed up._

Nico, or maybe it’s Draco, reply something in return. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t _want_ to know. He just wants to be left alone to drown in his failure. Such a rookie mistake, yet he had done it.

“Hazza,” he feels the way a hand hovers over the nape of his neck and he hears the crack of distraught in the voice calling out his name. “Hazza, come here.”

He doesn’t want to, he should be correcting his mistakes and not be spoiled rotten by his friends. He wants to shake his head, reject the offer, pull away but it’s like his body doesn’t even listen to him anymore. 

It’s Shiva, he realizes when the scent of sandalwood hits his nose as the youngest of their friends wraps him around him and pulls him into a hug. 

“Shiva,” he whispers, feeling like the worst person on the Earth. He’s _older_ than Shiva. _He_ is supposed to be comforting him. He is supposed to be composed. He is supposed to be _better._

“Anna,” Hadrian slips deeper into the embrace of his brother at the change in language. “You did good.”

“Shiva, I _forgot_ my moves.”

“Everyone messes up sometimes,” Shiva tells him, soft as if he is sharing a secret with Hadrian. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t do their best or aren’t good.”

“...you know,” Hadrian begins, chuckling wetly. “I’m supposed to be older than you.”

Shiva stuffs his face into the crook of his neck and hums, “Doesn’t mean you can’t be you Hades.”

~

The sun’s pretty dope, Hadrian thinks as he leans against the railing. It sucks away the darkness and brightens the day, thaws the cold the night leaves behind and caresses everything to let them know that they survived another day. The sun’s pretty cool. He thinks that he maybe wants to be like the sun. 

“If you’re quite done with admiring the sun,” Draco dragged out, voice quite monotone though his eyes glinted with humour. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Hadrian pursed his lips and stared off into the distance. “I think I still have to watch some more.”

“Harryyy!”

“Kidding,” Hadrian huffs out a laugh at Draco before he’s looping his arm with him and pulling the other along. “C’mon before all of the cake is gone!”

“Hey!”

~

He watches Rowan scribble away at his journal, the lead of the pencil scraping softly against the yellow of the leather bound pages. It’s an eerily similar scene to the one a few years ago, except he had a glass of wine in his hand and they both have reached somewhere close to their dreams. That’s the thing with dreams, you can always dream of something _more_ or _different._

Hadrian takes a sip, the red tinted beverage rushing to meet his lips. 

“I think I want to be a piece of peace for people.”

The strokes of pencil stops and he doesn’t meet Rowan’s gaze this time around either as he lets the man consider him thoroughly. 

“You think?” He finally says, an eyebrow cocked, not nearly as intimidating when Rudhra does it but it fully translates Rowan's skepticism. 

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Hadrian quirks his lips into a gentle grin before taking another sip of his drink. 

“I see the years have done nothing for you then.”

“Not really,” Hadrian admits. “I’m still the same me.”

“Hm,” Suga begins sketching again. “So piece of peace?”

“Well, I think that, no,” he sighs. “I just want to help people, like _be there._ Like a shoulder to cry on or giving strength in hard times. Touch on topics everyone wants to avoid and give the best of me, I guess.”

“Is that so?” Rowan hums. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Dance.”

Rowan smiles at that and their room slowly descends back into the usual silence with Rudhra sleeping in the corner of the room.

“Like cakes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like cakes. It makes you feel full. I wanna fill everyone with positivity and strength like cake.”

“... aaand you ruined it.”


End file.
